Shattered Perfection
by Spiritblaze
Summary: Achilles is not perfect. Far from it. In this series of oneshots, Patroclus will learn just how flawed and imperfect his revered guardian is. How will this affect their relationship, however? How will Patroclus come to terms with the fact that the man he admires more than anything is broken in so many ways? No slash, but please read the warning inside.
1. Prologue

**Warning:** Well, what can I say? From the summary, you already know that in this fanfic, I will be tapping into Achilles' emotionally unstable and scarred persona. But of course, a fair warning is in order: Achilles is _very_ traumatized and emotionally unstable in some of these segments, and because of his personality and coping methods, some of these oneshots may be very frightening, upsetting, and triggering. You have been warned.

**Disclaimer:** I am a Greek goddess, and I own this universe and these lovely human beings.

…In my dreams. ;)

**Acknowledgements:** Aww, I can't help myself – I would like to once again dedicate this fanfic to **HaloFin17, Horsetamer5, **and **bluebirdheart.**

**Author's Notes:** So...I can't be the only one who gets the distinct vibe that Patroclus admires Achilles greatly, but only for his seemingly flawless and god-like qualities, right? I couldn't help but feel that, when watching this movie, Patroclus was both uneasy and even a bit judgmental when Achilles' flaws reared their ugly head.

This is what my fic will focus on: Achilles' flaws and how they affect his and Pat's relationship. Obviously, I think Patroclus would adore and love his cousin no matter what, but I think he would also have a difficult time respecting and still admiring Achilles after witnessing his flawed side, and in this fic, he will have to learn to come to terms with it.

Also, Achilles may seem OOC in some places, but I truly believe that deep down, he is a very messed up and broken person. PTSD? Oh, yes…

Oh, and do please note that these oneshots take place over the course of Pat's childhood pre-movie.

Last but not least...enjoy! :)

/

_**Prologue**_

Achilles was a fine specimen of a warrior who ruled over the southern city-state of Phthia and an elite tribe of warriors known as the Myrmidons. He was regarded by many as the greatest warrior in the world, a flawless being, and several urban legends surrounded him. Some of these tales revered and heralded him as if he were a god, while others vilified him. More often than not, it was the latter.

"You'd better behave yourself, or Achilles will come and get you," Grecian and non-Grecian women alike would scold their children. And of course, they would take their mothers very seriously, because who in their right mind would want to cross Achilles?

There were mixed feelings about this warrior throughout Greece, for he was both greatly beloved and greatly reviled. But no matter where they stood on the matter, all were in agreement: he was a being to be feared, for he was invulnerable and perfect. Perfect.

Little did they know just how much his reputation and profession cost him, both physically and mentally. In most of the city-states he traveled, whether for war or for business, the citizens would spit upon him and screech obscenities. One elderly man had even urinated on him.

Achilles never fought back against these citizens, for he saw no honor in battling against those who were unarmed and unskilled in warfare. However, their words, actions, and superstitions hurt him more than he cared to admit.

The superstitions…gods, the superstitions! As soon as word of his arrival would reach merchants in the city-states, they stocked up on "blue eyes," little blue glass pieces of jewelry and pendants that the women wore while avoiding his "evil eye."

Others would stock up on garlic or salt and throw these food products at him, screeching phrases meant to drive away evil in their culture.

Whenever he was called away to fight in one of Agamemnon's petty wars, soldiers whom he barely knew would walk directly up to him and whisper "Piase kokkino!" while fingering any red item that was within reach. Such a phrase was uttered in order to prevent fighting between two individuals in Greece. As if they truly believed he was capable of fighting and killing his own comrades!

"_He is not human. He is a creature, a creature of the Underworld!"_

"_He brings bad luck and death wherever he goes!"_

"_He is cold-hearted, vicious, evil…"_

"_Golden hair – you know what they say about Greek men with golden hair, right?"_

"_No, what?"_

"_They're freaks and symbolize bad luck!"_

"_Wretched bastard! How does Thetis feel, knowing she bore an inhuman creature?"_

"_You belong in the deepest, darkest, most fiery place of Tartarus!"_

"_He's possessed! Possessed!"_

"_You did this to him, Peleus." _Athena's voice, full of wrath. "_You've… destroyed him!"_

"_Piase kokkino, piase kokkino!"_

Achilles sank to the ground and gripped his golden air, trying in vain to expel the words spoken about him over the years from his mind. He had returned from yet another war, and the dark night found him in an isolated forest. This clearing in the woods was _his_ place, the only place where he could go when he needed to release his emotions.

They didn't know…Patroclus, Eudorus, Odysseus, his goddess mother…they all thought he was so invulnerable, so flawless, so absolutely _perfect._

They didn't know! They didn't know just how much the guilt tortured and clawed at him after battles, how much he hated himself and wanted to sleep forever and never wake up. _Nobody_ knew. They thought he was a cold-hearted, emotionless, and remorseless being, but nothing could be further from the truth.

Nobody knew how caged and forced into his lifestyle he felt; they just assumed that he enjoyed his profession, enjoyed ending lives. They didn't know of the horrific nightmares that plagued and haunted him, nor did they know of his constant thirst and _need_ for repentance.

_It is repentance and peace I desire, not bloodshed, _he screamed in his mind. _Why can't they see that?_

Wild-eyed and with heart pounding, he got up off the ground and staggered over to a tree.

_I am so sorry._

Without another thought, he ran his arms down the tree, gasping as the rough bark cut into his wrists. He repeated this movement over and over again, until blood was trickling steadily down his arms and onto the forest floor.

Blood for blood. Pain for pain. It was only fair, he decided. He continued to viciously brush his arms over the bark, until his thoughts turned to blackness and he passed out from the pain.

/

**End Notes:** What do you think so far? Please feel free to give feedback and constructive criticism, as well as any requests or suggestions for some of these oneshots. :)

Btw, yes, those superstitions were real superstitions in Ancient Greece! The _Iliad _and other works don't really outright say that there was superstition surrounding Achilles, but who knows?


	2. Shattered Composure

**Disclaimer:** Only in my dreams, only in my dreams…

**Author's Notes:** So this chapter, and maybe the next one, will be extensions of the prologue.

Pat is…hmm…let's say ten or eleven here.

Do enjoy this official first chapter! And don't worry; there's nothing _too_ shocking here. ;p

/

_**Chapter 1: Shattered Composure**_

It was sunrise the next morning when Achilles regained consciousness. He was curled on his side in the leaves, and a dull, throbbing ache in both arms made him glance down. The sight that greeted him was dried, dark red blood spattered on his tunic and the leaves of the forest floor around him. Remembering the events of the night before, he jumped up abruptly, which made him realize just how dizzy and in pain he was, so he sank back down into the leaves, closing his eyes and fighting waves of nausea.

_I deserve the pain, don't I?_

Shaking his head to clear the dizziness, he got up again (more slowly this time) and made his way over to a small stream, where he washed the sticky, dried blood from his arms and drank deeply to soothe his aching thirst before heading home. All he wanted to do now was sink back into the blissful unconsciousness of sleep.

"Achilles!"

Achilles started when he heard Patroclus joyfully call his name. Usually, for him, his cousin's exuberance was contagious and nothing made him happier than seeing Patroclus' face light up upon seeing him. In his current state, however, all he felt was irritation course through him. He just wanted to be left alone! He wanted to sleep, to not have to think or feel again for a few more hours.

And so when Patroclus threw his arms about him, Achilles, instead of embracing him in turn, as he usually did, pried his arms off and none-too-gently pushed Patroclus away from him. Without a word, he stalked away in the direction of his room. Bewildered and hurt by the unexpected rejection, Patroclus trailed after him.

"Er..cousin? What's wrong? Where were you last night? You were gone for hours!"

Achilles whirled around. "Leave me alone!" he screeched. He absolutely could not and did not want deal with anybody's company right now, even his dear cousin's. He was feeling weaker than he cared to admit, for on top of the waves of nausea and dizziness that overwhelmed him, he was starting to tremble as well.

Patroclus drew back when his cousin screeched at him, sick himself now with fear and shock.

"A-Achilles?" he whispered. "Are you angry at me? Did I do something wrong?"

"No," Achilles snapped, but he lowered his voice. "Just leave me alone!"

Patroclus only crept tentatively closer to his cousin, however. "What's wrong?" he said in a trembling voice. "You don't look so well. Are you ill?" The boy was truly frightened now, for he had never seen Achilles so distraught in his life.

He didn't cease following Achilles, not even when the warrior turned his back on him again and silently climbed up into his loft. Patroclus went after him and was alarmed at the sight that greeted him: His cousin was lying on his back atop his bed, his blue eyes dull and staring at nothing in particular and his golden hair a tangled mess.

"You really are sick, aren't you?" Patroclus whispered, walking over and sitting down on the bed beside him. "But it's okay," he said with a bright smile, as he leaned down to rest his head on Achilles' chest. "I'll take care of you!"

Achilles shot up abruptly and pushed Patroclus roughly onto the floor.

"I told you to leave me alone," he hissed venomously. "Get out of my sight!"

As soon as Patroclus hit the floor, he started to cry. "I-I'm sorry, Achilles!" he choked out. "I'll leave. Whatever I did to make you so angry, just please don't hate me!"

His agonized words snapped Achilles out of his own misery, and remorse filled him at the sight and sound of his cousin's tears. What was _wrong _with him? Why had he just lashed out at his pure-hearted, sweet little cousin who only wanted to help him?

"Patroclus...oh, Patroclus," he murmured sadly, holding his arms open. "Come here."

Patroclus needed no further invitation as he leapt into Achilles' arms and clung to him, sobbing freely.

"Shh, shh," Achilles soothed, as he rubbed Patroclus' back and held him close. "I'm sorry." He laid his cheek atop his cousin's head. "I'm so sorry, little warrior."

Patroclus sniffled and glanced up at him. "Why are you angry at me? You don't hate me now, do you?"

"No! Oh dear gods, no, little warrior!" Achilles all but crushed the boy to his chest now. "I could never hate you, and I'm not even angry at you. I love you so, so much, but you were right: I don't feel very well, and I need to rest. Can you be a good boy for me and go outside and play while I rest for awhile?"

"I guess," Patroclus whispered, still somewhat dejected. "You'll be okay, though?"

"Yes, little warrior, I will be fine," Achilles replied softly, smoothing the boy's hair and kissing his forehead. "Nothing a good rest can't cure."

"But…why were you out all night? And why do you have those scratches on your arms?" Patroclus was becoming upset again as he questioned his cousin.

"Hunting. I was hunting," Achilles choked the lie out. He hated to lie to his cousin about anything, but he certainly couldn't tell him the truth. It would scare him.

"And as for the scratches... well, let's just say your cousin's not much of a hunter," he joked.

The boy only shook his head, unconvinced. "But you're a great hunter, and you're not clumsy at all!"

"Patroclus…" Achilles sighed, closing his eyes. "We can talk more later. Please, leave me now."

Patroclus nodded and slid out of Achilles' arms, leaving him alone to rest, but a strange, foreboding feeling still plagued him. Something was terribly wrong with his cousin, and he couldn't fathom what was the matter, but he was going to find out!


	3. Shattered Trust

**Warning:** I think a warning is in order for this chapter: Achilles "flirts" with the idea of suicide here.

**Disclaimer:** I'm still dreaming...

**Acknowledgements:** I would like to take a brief moment to give a special shout-out to **soso22,** who has been amazingly supportive of this story so far. *hugs*

/

_**Chapter 2: Shattered Trust**_

Achilles gently pressed his wrist under the sword he was sharpening, and he gasped when the skin was broken and blood welled up under the blade. A month had passed now since he had returned from the war, and his nightmares were starting to occur on a near-nightly basis. They were becoming more terrifying and vivid, and they would often leave him drenched in sweat and sick for hours on end. Sometimes, when he couldn't take it anymore and sanity threatened to flee from his psyche, he just gave up and stopped sleeping altogether.

At least he had a way of coping, although it was painful. But pain was more than he deserved, and in his tortured and sick mind, his methods of self-punishment were his only means of repentance. Besides, the pain and resulting dizziness took his mind off his past sins, if only briefly.

Something was wrong with him; there was no denying that. He couldn't get through one day without being plagued by flashbacks of this previous war, nor could he get through the day without the most trivial things reminding him of it. These past few days had brought him the most agony and torture, however, because on top of the horrific flashbacks, random hallucinations and a dark voice that whispered in his mind haunted him. His means of coping with these new problems were starting to take its toll on his mental and physical health, for as well as slicing any part of his body with any sharp object he could get his hands on, he would drink himself into unconsciousness when the worst of the nightmares came. In these particular dreams, he actually found himself physically in the Underworld, with the shades of everybody he'd ever killed haunting him.

He was eating much less nowadays, too, for trying to choke anything down left him sick all too often. As a result, he was becoming thinner, although the weight loss wasn't too noticeable yet.

He shifted the blade to his other wrist and pressed down harder this time, reveling in the sight of his own wretched blood coming to the surface.

"_**Why not go through with it? Why just hurt yourself when you can actually end it, right here and right now? Do it, you coward!"**_

The dark voice – the same dark voice that had been haunting him for days – whispered to him now, filling his mind with these unspeakable thoughts. Without realizing it, he had moved the sword so that he was running the blade tantalizingly over his right heel, the only spot on his body that, when wounded, would kill him.

"_**That's it, Achilles**_. _**Just one well-placed strike, and it will all be over."**_

Could he really do it? All it would take was one jerked movement, and he would find himself leaving his sinful, wretched life behind.

"_**Do it, you golden-haired freak! There is nothing here for you anymore!"**_

But what would become of Patroclus? His poor little warrior would be left alone to fend for himself, without love and guidance in the world. No, he couldn't just take his own life as if it meant nothing. Well…it did mean nothing to him, but in Patroclus' case, he was still desperately needed on this earth. Why had the horrid thought even entered his mind? With a sudden groan of agony and frustration, he threw the sword onto the ground. Wrapping one arm around his stomach and pressing his other hand into his face, he succumbed to bitter weeping.

_I don't know what to do anymore!_

"_**You are absolutely pathetic. This is why I would never breed with a mortal. You demigods are freaks of nature, and you all deserve slow, painful deaths."**_

Achilles shook his head vehemently to expel that cruel voice from his head, and he continued to sob, finding some small measure of comfort in the release of his emotions.

"Achilles?"

Achilles froze as he heard his cousin's small, scared voice behind him.

/

_(Patroclus POV)_

He couldn't believe what he was seeing. Achilles, his strong, brave, and noble demigod cousin... crying. He'd known for a while that something was terribly wrong with Achilles, and while he loved his cousin dearly, he had spent as little time as possible with him this past month, for an unexplainable, dark force of energy seemed to surround the golden warrior, and it terrified him.

But nothing terrified him more than seeing Achilles now, trembling like a leaf and sobbing as though his heart would break.

He had to do something! He had to help him! But how?

He decided to make his presence known.

"Achilles?"

Upon hearing his voice, Achilles froze and his head shot up. As his eyes settled on his little cousin, standing in the doorway and looking scared, he hurriedly brushed his tears away.

"What are you doing up, little warrior? It's late."

"I-I couldn't sleep," Patroclus replied, still terrified. "Nightmares."

Achilles' haunted blue orbs gazed at him sympathetically, and he opened his arms wordlessly. Patroclus grinned and threw himself into his cousin's embrace eagerly, but he jerked back in terror as Achilles wrapped his arms around him and burst into fresh, body-wracking sobs.

"C-cousin, what's wrong?" He had never seen Achilles like this before, and he could feel his hair becoming soaked with the man's tears.

Achilles wept harder, and Patroclus felt helpless. He didn't know what could possibly be the matter, and he didn't know what he could do or say to help his guardian, so he just settled for wrapping his arms around Achilles' torso. He could feel the warrior's ribs under his arms, and this scared him even more. Achilles was hurt and sick, and all he wanted to do right now was make him better.

"A-Achilles? Whatever's wrong…it will be okay soon," he said in a cheerful voice. He reached up to stroke Achilles' hair awkwardly. "We have each other, and I love you."

Achilles responded by choking out another sob and holding him tighter. "I love you, too, little warrior," he whispered. "I love you so very much. I'm sorry you have to see me like this."

Patroclus was about to reply, but suddenly, he felt something warm seep into his clothes where Achilles' arms were encircled around him. He drew back, absolutely flabbergasted, and his confusion turned to horror when he saw his cousin's blood-covered arms.

"You're hurt!" he cried out. But then his eyes fell upon the sword lying on the ground, and the still-warm blood that covered it. As he put two-and-two together, his fear and sadness quickly morphed into disgust and anger, and he violently wrenched himself out of Achilles' arms.

"You…you did this to yourself?" he asked, voice shaking with anger. He felt utterly betrayed, and against his will, his eyes filled with tears. "You lied to me! You said before that you were in a hunting accident!"

Achilles was gazing at him, sorrow and remorse glimmering in his shadowed eyes. He got up and took a few cautious steps towards his little cousin.

"Come here, cousin." He knelt down and held out his arm pleadingly. Tears filled his eyes again, but Patroclus' pity was not stirred this time. He backed away and spat out, "Don't touch me! I hate you!"

Achilles' tears now spilled over and fell steadily, and he lowered his head in sorrow as his body once again shook with silent weeping.

Patroclus, on his part, couldn't help but feel betrayed and angry beyond belief. Eudorus had once told him that many of their fellow Myrmidons would come home from war and not feel well. They would suffer from nightmares and flashbacks, and as a result, they would hurt themselves to cope with their trauma.

Patroclus had shuddered upon hearing this, but at the same time, he had felt both relieved and proud that Achilles wasn't like the others, that he was stronger and better than them.

And yet…here he was now, his arms covered in the blood of his own self-punishment. Nausea and repulsion filled the boy.

"I thought you were supposed to be a great warrior," he whispered, backing up even more.

"Patroclus," Achilles spoke again, in a desperate voice choking with emotion, "Patroclus, I'm still the same Achilles. I'm just not well right now, but I'm still the same. Please, little warrior…" Tears were burning a path down his face and falling to the floor one after the other, and he gazed at his cousin, pleading with him to understand.

Patroclus spat on the ground in front of him. "Don't call me that anymore! It's true, isn't it? You really are bad luck. You're pathetic and disgusting."

Had those words come from anybody else's mouth, Achilles would have been up off the floor and spilling his or her life-blood in seconds, but since they came from Patroclus – a mere skinny boy of ten years, a boy whose love and respect meant more to him than anything in the world – all he did was lie on the ground and fully succumb to his grief, for he knew then and there that he had lost his little cousin's trust for a long time. Perhaps not his love, but still all the same, his respect and trust were gone.

Without another word, Patroclus shook his head and stalked back to his room.

Achilles gasped in pain and shock. "Patroclus, no! Come back! We can talk this out! Please, little warrior, _don't leave me in darkness!_"

Patroclus froze as the tortured words his cousin had just screeched echoed in his psyche. Those words and how they were uttered would haunt him for many years to come.

_Darkness._

He shuddered as the air around him suddenly turned ice-cold.

/

_(Achilles POV)_

"_**Poor, poor Achilles. You've done it this time, eh, golden warrior?"**_

"Leave me alone!" he cried aloud, shaking his head frantically.

The air around him turned to ice as the dark voice morphed into a shadowy figure standing in the corner.

"Never."

"What do you want from me?" he moaned.

"Revenge. Your sanity. Your very soul." The figure stepped out of the shadows and into the light. "I want to rid the world of filthy half-breed demigods like you."

Achilles dashed for his sword lying on the ground and rushed at the veiled creature with an outraged roar.

The figure only sighed and raised its arm as though bored.

Achilles stopped in his tracks as he felt the breath leave his body. He gasped and found he couldn't breathe. He fell to the ground, clawing at his throat and glaring balefully at the figure standing above him.

"Who. Are. You?" he managed to choke out.

Very pale hands reached up to slide the veil off and reveal its face.

"You!" Achilles hissed, before the blackness of unconsciousness claimed him.

A chilling laugh rang out as his tormentor lowered its hand and donned the veil again.

"Sweet dreams, demigod."

/

**End Notes:** Well, this "oneshot" here ended up being a "threeshot" instead, LOL! Don't worry, though. The rest will be oneshots.

So…the ending is up for interpretation. Was it real or a hallucination? Hmm...

And take a wild guess who the voice/figure is! Here's a hint: it is an Olympian diety, and s/he will be recurring in this fic on and off.

Poor Achilles, huh? He needs a cat, don't you think? Yes…


	4. The Aftermath

**Disclaimer:** I never have and never will own this universe. *commence gross sobbing*

**Acknowledgements:** A special shout-out is in order for **Horsetamer5**, since she helped me greatly with this chapter. Thank you! :)

**Author's Note:** As requested, here is a wrap-up/aftermath chapter of the first three. I know, I know, I promised last chapter that it would be the last part of this particular "oneshot" (ahem, and of course I say oneshot very loosely, haha), so bear with me as I turn it into a "fourshot."

But I swear (on my life!), this is the last you'll see of this storyline. The rest of the chapters _will _be different, and I will try my best to keep them oneshot-length.

Enjoy!

/

_**Chapter 3: The Aftermath**_

_(Achilles POV)_

He awoke in his room to the bitter, chemical scent of herbs and the sensation of his wrists being salved and cleansed with a stinging liquid. He struggled wildly, and a restraining hand was placed on his forehead. The cool feel of the hand made him realize just how hot and soaked with sweat he was.

"Lie still, fool," a cold, cruel voice hissed above him, and he snapped his eyes open to find himself gazing into the ice-blue eyes of Eris, goddess of chaos and war, twin sister of Ares, and daughter of Zeus and Hera. The dark princess of Olympus. _Her!_

As he remembered the events of the past few hours, he shot up and tore at his hair, screaming in agony like a wounded lion.

_SMACK! _

Achilles gasped in shock as the power of Eris' blow sent him sprawled on his back again, head and ears ringing.

Before Achilles could recover from the stunning blow Eris had dealt him, she leapt on top of him as quickly as a striking adder and pinned his wrists to the ground. Her fingers dug into the wounded parts of his wrists, and he cried out in pain and struggled harder.

Another blow made him cease his struggles, and he couldn't help flinching as Eris leaned down and growled in his face, savage rage turning her blue eyes yellow.

"Listen to me, you filthy demigod. You're running a fever, and unless you yield and accept my divine healing, you will send yourself into delirium!"

Achilles, far from yielding to the goddess, began to struggle again, dark rage fueling a raw power within him. Nobody, _absolutely nobody –_ whether mortal or divine – struck him and lived to tell about it, so with a feral and chilling scream, he yanked his wrists from Eris' grip, grabbed her pale neck in a vice-like grip, and flipped her over. Eris gasped as her body was flung against the wall, but she recovered quickly and leapt to her feet gracefully and within seconds.

Achilles searched frantically for his sword, and the goddess let out a cruel, mocking laugh.

"Looking for this?" she smirked, and she held Achilles' sword in front of her and dangled it before him teasingly, before tucking it back into her black gown."You'll get this back when you learn how to play nice. Honestly, whatever were you thinking, trying to attack me like that earlier? You should have realized I would have choked you into unconsciousness without a second thought."

Any other man would have submitted to the goddess then and there, face down and blubbering for mercy, but Achilles was not any other man, and so, with fever-fueled rage, he charged at the goddess once again.

Eris sighed and calmly raised both hands. Achilles gasped as sharp, flaming lightning bolts stopped him in his tracks and pierced his body, and against his will, he crumpled to the ground, twitching and spitting obscenities at Ares' twin.

Eris ceased her torture and stood above him, smirking with sick satisfaction.

"I am a daughter of Zeus. Did you honestly not expect me to possess such powers?"

"I HATE YOU!" Achilles roared, in a spine-chilling and inhuman voice.

"Oh, trust me, the feeling's mutual," Eris said dryly.

"Why are you here?! Why won't you go away?! You're only a vision, come to torture me…" Achilles moaned and gripped at his hair in agony.

"No, actually, believe it or not, it was my voice in your head the whole time, and it is truly me standing before you now, in the divine flesh."

She held out her hand, offering to help him up, but he ignored her proffered hand and staggered to his feet, staring at her in disbelief.

"Why do you gaze at me as if I've just grown two heads? It is not an uncommon phenomenon for deities to be able to communicate telepathically with some demigods."

Now that Achilles was fully conscious and alert, he sized Eris up, taking in this eerie, yet sophisticated goddess. She was quite beautiful, but not in the way that golden Aphrodite was. No, this goddess was like the afternoon thunderstorm, emanating regality and raw, unrestrained power. She was tall and slender, almost appearing fragile and delicate, but the aura of black power around her made one disregard this. Her skin was very pale, her eyes ice-blue, and her hair long and jet-black. Dark blood – _his _blood – spattered her black, flowing dress.

For once in his life, Achilles recognized a being more powerful than he, a being who could utterly destroy him if she so wished. And since he was not a man who made the same mistakes twice, he ceased trying to attack her and instead decided to listen to her in defiant silence.

Eris chuckled darkly and handed him his sword as she saw his tense body relax in surrender. "And here, I was starting to think that wretched mother of yours never taught you manners."

Achilles' head shot up, and he said in a low, menacing voice, "Do not utter another word against my mother."

Eris ignored him and spat out, "Ah, yes, Thetis - the little Nereid who dared to insult me by not inviting me to her wedding. Little did she know, she chose the wrong goddess to cross."

Achilles glared at her, and Eris continued, "You know the story, yes? I'm sure your parents told you many lovely things about me over the years. Did they tell you how I interrupted their wedding and caused chaos amongst the goddesses? Do you know how?"

Achilles had, indeed, heard this tale many times growing up, but now, he was terribly confused. "If your quarrel is with my mother," he queried, "then why have you been torturing _me_ recently?"

Eris slowly approached him until they were face-to-face, and Achilles tensed and gripped his sword as Eris spoke to him in a low, ominous voice.

"My quarrel isn't just with Thetis, Achilles. My quarrel is with everybody in association with her, especially those by blood."

"Eris, listen-"

"No, Achilles, you listen!" Eris shrieked now, and with one lightning quick movement, she grabbed the demigod by the throat and slammed him up against the wall. "I will never forget nor forgive her blatant disrespect, and I will _never_ embrace or accept those she loves, because you're all the same! Arrogant bastards!" She tightened her grip on his throat and hissed in his face, "I do not seek to kill you, for destiny will take care of that for me, but I still want to break you as much as possible before that."

She continued with a sinister smile, "Oh, yes, my actions that day will lead to a series of devastating and irreversible events that will cause the death of many demigods, men, women, and children. I knew full well, too, and you know what? I still didn't care, because they all know now to never cross Eris, ever again!

And here's another little secret for you: I am one of the most powerful deities on Olympus, though I may not be part of the Twelve. War, chaos, and discord are my domain, and my power is raw and unrestrained. I could take over Olympus if I so chose, so it's a good thing I am content with the way things are.

But where were we? Ah, yes, the golden apple of doom. Do you know, Achilles, that one little pretty golden apple will lead to war – war that results in the death of many gods' children? Filthy demigods will meet their doom, and I will sit back and watch it all, laughing with glee as their tainted blood floods the earth and chaos rules!" At this fevered declaration, her blue eyes flashed golden, and she threw back her head, shrieking with maniacal laughter.

Achilles recoiled, struggling wildly, and after freeing himself from her loosened grip, he leapt back from her as far as possible. Never had he felt so spooked in his life.

"Eris," he rasped, "what have you done?! If you want revenge against my mother, why not just kill me, here and now? Why did you heal me if you loathe me so much?" He gestured to his clothed wrists.

"Like I said," Eris purred in a silky voice, once she composed herself, "destiny will take care of that for me, and as for patching you up…well, a goddess can't make do with a broken plaything now, can she?"

Achilles glared at her in disgust as she referred to him as a "plaything."

"What do you even want from me?" he eventually spat out.

"I told you before: your sanity. I already know how your life will play out, and I know what the Fates have in store for you, so I don't need to kill you myself to feel avenged. I do, however, want to cause you as much emotional pain as possible, until every ounce of sanity drains from your essence and leaves you a broken mess."

"You truly know how my life will play out?" he asked her, and he couldn't help the curious note that crept into his voice now.

Eris smirked. "Oh, yes; though, if you expect me to reveal anything about you, you're sadly mistaken."

Achilles stood his ground. "Tell me," he whispered threateningly.

"No," Eris said, in a teasingly calm voice, "I don't feel like it."

Achilles let out a frustrated cry as every emotion he'd felt these past hours came rushing back to him, and without thinking twice, he rushed at Eris once again, sword drawn. He wanted nothing more than to slash that horrible goddess to pieces!

Eris only smirked again, and with a snap of her fingers, she disappeared in thin air, making it seem as if she'd never been there in the first place.

As soon as she disappeared from sight, Achilles threw his sword on the ground in frustration, and he began to pace back and forth, gripping his hair and breathing heavily in an attempt to regain control of the raging emotions that threatened to spiral out of control.

"Achilles?"

The warrior in question stopped his fevered pacing and spun around as he heard his cousin's small, timid voice in the doorway of his room.

Patroclus was gazing at him, fear and sorrow glimmering in his eyes. Tears streamed down his face, and he shook like a blade of grass in the wind.

Achilles' own tears sprang forth as his eyes settled on his cousin, and he felt his heart break all over again as he remembered the boy's hateful words to him earlier.

"I-I'm so sorry!" Patroclus blurted out miserably, his tears falling faster now. "Please forgive me, Achilles!" He fell to his knees, sobbing harder in his life than Achilles had ever seen him sob before.

He was at the boy's side in an instant, wrapping him tightly in his arms and trying in vain to soothe him.

"Shh, shh. It's all right, little warrior. Your words are forgiven," he whispered, kissing the boy's forehead and stroking his hair. "Just calm down now."

Far from calming down, Patroclus only cried harder. "I had no right saying such cruel things to you! I didn't mean them, either," he choked out. "I was just so angry because I couldn't help you feel better, but I don't think you're pathetic and disgusting, and I don't hate you." He was speaking in a rush now. "Please, don't hate me, Achilles, please! I love you!" The boy buried his head in Achilles' chest now, clinging to him for dear life.

Achilles felt his concern spark at his cousin's fevered words and actions; he was on the verge of hyperventilating, so hysterical he was.

"Patroclus," Achilles murmured softly, and tightened his embrace on the boy. "Listen to me, little warrior. Your words are forgiven, all right? I know they were spoken in anger, and I know you didn't truly mean them. I, too, possess the unfortunate habit of saying and doing things I don't mean in the heat of anger. It runs in our family," he added with a grin, hoping to soothe his cousin's misery with the jesting words.

When even that didn't make Patroclus cease his sobbing, Achilles sighed and lifted his cousin into his arms, carrying him over to sit on the bed with him. He knew something else troubled the boy, besides feeling guilty over petty words.

"Oh, Patroclus." Achilles once again wrapped his arms tightly around his cousin and held his head close to his heart. "What is it, little warrior? What else troubles you?"

Patroclus drew in a shuddering breath and choked out, "I thought you were dead. You were lying on the ground, not moving and with blood pooling around you. And then that weird goddess looked at me and told me you were still alive, but I didn't believe her. Her eyes turned this scary yellow color and she told me to leave, so I had to obey her, since she's a goddess."

He buried his head in Achilles' chest again. "I'm so sorry for leaving you behind! I should've stayed there and tried to protect you," he whispered, shame coloring his features.

Achilles shook his head. "No, Patroclus, you were right to obey that goddess. Her name is Eris, and she holds a grudge against those who share my mother's – your aunt's – blood. Who knew what she would have done to you if you had defied her?" He shuddered at the thought and held Patroclus more tightly.

"I thought she was going to kill you!" Patroclus wailed. "And then I would've been left alone, and my last words to you…" he trailed off, unable to continue.

"Oh, little warrior," Achilles murmured, tears filling his eyes again as his heart shattered, "let us forget such things now. You need to rest. We both do."

Patroclus shook his head frantically. "I can't! After seeing and hearing all that, I'll have nightmares. Please don't make me," he begged, beginning to cry again.

"Stay here with me, then," Achilles whispered. "I'll watch over you."

"Are you sure?" his cousin sniffled, lifting his head and glancing up at him.

"Of course," Achilles said in a gentle voice. "You are always welcome."

The boy nodded, wrapped his arms around his neck, and rested his head on Achilles' chest, feeling all his previous fears and turmoil drain away as the sound of Achilles' heartbeat lulled him to sleep.

Achilles sighed as he watched his cousin fall asleep, the tears now falling from his eyes.

"We'll get through this, little warrior," he whispered, kissing the top of his cousin's head and laying down himself.

/

**End Notes:** Eris: mythology's biggest troll, right? xD

Feel free to offer constructive feedback, and feel free to PM me if you have any questions regarding Eris. She's a rather obscure figure in Greek Mythology, and the tale of how she started the Trojan War is a fascinating one. ;)


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